


Invisible String

by Nova_Orchid



Category: A Discovery of Witches (TV), All Souls Trilogy - Deborah Harkness
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28841622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nova_Orchid/pseuds/Nova_Orchid
Summary: An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place and circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break- Chinese Proverb.Their love stretched centuries, in life and death. But the relationship of Ysabeau and Philippe was not always that easy. A collection of drabbles, of partings and reunions, of an inseparable couple joined together by an invisible thread, no matter how far they part, they find their way back to one another.Just an attempt to fix the severe lack of Ysabeau/Philippe fics.
Relationships: Philippe de Clermont/Ysabeau de Clermont
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33





	1. A Bittersweet Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> There is a severe lack of Ysabeau and Philippe fics and this is the result of that and some late night musing. I will try to stay as canon as possible but I haven't yet read Time's Convert and I'm still reading The Book of Life. As a result, some details might differ, apologies if they do.

Sept Tours 1803

The courtyard is quiet. The house is quiet. Ysabeau frowns. Where is everyone? Philippe hadn't informed her that he would not be in residence. That was unusual. No matter where she was, he always sent word if he was planning a trip somewhere.

"Madame de Clermont..."

"Tend to the horses." Ysabeau instructs the captain of her escort. She had travelled with only a few men, at Philippe's request. Not ideal for what she was doing whilst she was away, but he'd insisted. 

Movement catches her attention. It is Alain. So Philippe is still here. Her shoes click on the floor as she walks through the house. It's cold, not that it bothers her, it's just unexpected. Philippe likes to keep a fire burning, even when there's no need. Instinctively, she goes to his office. It's empty. Ysabeau frowns. There's only one other place he would be this time of the day. She sighs. She won't follow him. The weariness from travel she'd been holding at bay crashes over her. She needs sleep. Their bedroom is her next destination. The sight awaiting her surprises and intrigues her. Philippe.

“My love… you’re back.” The surprise is evident in Philippe’s voice as she walks further into the room. She had expected him to be out hunting at this hour. Sadness swims behind his eyes and she suspects she is the cause of it. She usually is or at least her leaving him is. But this time was different. This time she had to go. The damage had been too great.

Ysabeau does not speak, merely walks into the room. Her eyes scan her surroundings, inspecting, scrutinizing. Everything is as she left it except for one thing; a letter lies open on the bedside table. She recognises the hand at once: hers. Guilt twinges in her heart. The letter is not new, she did not write to him once in the months she was away, unusual but then so too was the reason for her leaving. Still, the guilt is enough to soften her heart somewhat. She lifts her gaze to meet his. He’s staring at her, his eyes searching hers.

“How was the hunt?” He offers.

“I was not hunting witches.” Her voice is soft. Philippe flinches. The unspoken meaning lingers between them. “But now I am back.” She smiles softly.

“And our son?” Her smile falters.

“I suspect he will forgive you in time. Love can make a person do all manner of things.”

“Aye, it can.”

“Do not forget, my love, it was your love that kept me alive.” Her tone is slightly chiding and she intends it to be, they need to put this argument to bed but if Philippe and Matthew are to reunite, Philippe must see their way of thinking.

“That is not the same, I could not live without you, mon coeur. But I will concede nevertheless.” That gifts him a playful smile. “And evidently, you cannot live without me.”

“How’s that?”

“You came back. No matter how angry you are, you always come back.”

“Perhaps if you did not make me angry, I would not leave.” It's supposed to chide him but instead, he chuckles. Ysabeau raises an eyebrow.

“Philippe de Clermont is indeed ruled by a woman.”

“Is that so?”

Philippe closes the space between them before he speaks again. He takes her hand and places it on his chest. “Only you will ever own this.” He traces a shape with her finger. “Only you will ever leave a mark here.”

Ysabeau smiles. She would be lying if she said she had not missed him.

“Now, my love, come to bed and I will show you how sorry I am.”

Ysabeau purses her lips. There was more to be said, their quarrel not yet over but she had missed him.

“Philippe, it’s daylight.” Her protest is weak.

“So… you’ve been gone months Ysabeau. I’m sure the servants will not begrudge us some time alone.”

Still, she does not move.

“My love… if I have to tell you again, I will make you wait.”

“You wouldn’t!” She exclaims, he raises an eyebrow in reply, smirk crossing his features. “But it’s been months.”

“Then I suggest you don’t make me wait.” His voice is playful. Ysabeau removes her hand from his and unbuckles her cloak letting it fall to the floor. Philippe’s eyes grace her figure. She is skinnier than she was when he saw her last.

“My love, when did you last feed?” She had hoped he wouldn’t notice her weight loss, but it came as no surprise that he had. He knew every inch of her body.

Ysabeau laughs. “Only a moment ago, you were desperate to get me into bed and now you’re concerned about my diet.”

“Oh, I am desperate to get you into bed, don’t you worry about that.” He crashes his lips to hers, his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. She moans against him.

“It seems I’m not the only one who is desperate.” Ysabeau laughs, desperate doesn't even cover it.

Philippe moves his hand up to neck, she leans into his touch as his lips return to hers. Their tongues battle for dominance. As always, Ysabeau lets the war continue for a short while before surrendering to him. Her knees weaken as he continues the assault on her mouth. Philippe spins them around and pushes her towards the bed, their mouths only separating briefly for air. He fiddles with the laces of her gown but can't undo them quick enough. Ysabeau laughs as he reaches for the knife on the bedside table.

"What?" A smile graces his lip at her raised eyebrow.

"You're a vampire... you could just rip it."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"If memory serves, you quite enjoy ripping my clothing." He recognises the challenge and abandons the knife, instead grabbing the material of the dress and pulling. The material tears easily. Ysabeau giggles as the material falls.

"God…" Philippe murmurs against her lips pulling his shirt over his head. Ysabeau's eyes rake over his body. She has missed him. Next, his hands find their way to the ties of her shift, undoing them with haste. It falls to the floor, as Philippe pushes her onto the bed. He leaves her lying there, naked and exposed, admiring the view as he removes his breeches. He climbs onto the bed and on top of her. His lips brush her neck trailing fierce kisses and leaving goose bumps in their wake. Ysabeau moans. Philippe chuckles. His lips move across her sternum and down to her naval before moving back up to her breast. A moan escapes her lips as he rolls his tongue back and forth across her nipple; Ysabeau arches her back, leaning into him eager for his touch. Philippe inserts a finger into her folds. She shivers at his touch. Satisfied with her reaction, Philippe moves his lips to her thigh. The touch sends pleasure through her body. Slowly his lips travel to her centre and he removes his fingers.

"Philippe… please" She breathes.

"Patience, mon coeur." He replies, his mouth at her entrance. His tongue licks her folds. She is dripping wet and screaming his name. Gently, he slides into her. She gasps. Then he pulls out before going in deeper. Another gasp. He thrusts in and out of her, his speed increasing with each thrust. She's screaming his name, begging for release and it comes. The contractions bring him so close to his own orgasm. Ysabeau is trembling when it finally comes. He leans away from her, looking down at her. A smile graces his lips as he moves his head to her bare neck. He kisses it before trailing kisses back down to her chest.

"Philippe..." She gasps. She knows what he's thinking.

"Mon coeur..." He looks up, his mouth close to her heart vein. Ysabeau raises an eyebrow. The vampire's kiss was exactly what led to their argument. She's not sure she wants him to know the details of her trip. The fear of being vulnerable before him confuses her. It had never bothered her before.

"Mon coeur..." He runs a finger down her cheek.

"Philippe..." Her voice is more forceful this time.

"You're my mate." His voice is rough. She nods in agreement. Philippe moves his head back to her heart vein. Just as he's about to bite her, she places her hand to his bare chest.

"No judgement, no reaction." It's quiet.

"Never mon coeur." And with that, Philippe bites into the mark on her chest. Ysabeau winces. It's been so long. That familiar feeling, that sense of belonging washes over her. She's home. When he finishes, Ysabeau follows suit, somewhat reluctant at what she will discover. Guilt floods her senses as she feels his loneliness. She too has been lonely without him. Then she senses his deep rooted sadness. Surprisingly, her guilt is replaced with something else. She feels his love. Yes, she's home.

“Ysabeau, never leave me that like again. I feared you would not come back.”

“Mon coeur, as if I could leave you permanently. I will always come back to you. We are tied together and though the string may bend from time to time, it cannot break. I am yours until the end of time.”


	2. Her Return From Trier.

Sept Tours 1590

There’s something about him. A sadness she doesn’t recognise. A sadness not caused by her going. Its almost wistful. He’s distant. For the first time in their long marriage, he wasn’t waiting expectantly for her in their courtyard. He’s in his office, writing something. At once he senses her, he’s always in tune to her. And there it is, this sadness. A cold wave washes over her. Has she done something? She’s about to speak when he stands from his chair and walks around the desk. Ysabeau trembles slightly, the fear of him rejecting her almost too much to bear.

“My love.” His voice is soft, all traces of sadness gone. Her fear subsides. “How was Trier?” Philippe lifts a hand to her cheek. She leans into his familiar touch.

“Bloody.” She replies, smirking.

“Just how you like it.” Philippe teases before capturing her lips with his. He pulls on her bottom lip with his teeth. She gasps at the sudden pain. Philippe uses the moment to insert his tongue into her mouth, teasing her tongue with fleeting movements. She’s about to respond in kind when something catches her attention. A scent she doesn’t recognise. It’s a witch’s scent. Matthew’s is there too. Sadness cuts through her at the thought of missing her son's visit. But it's quickly pushed away as she catches the witch’s scent again. Ysabeau pulls away from Philippe. Confusion burrows its way across his features.

“A witch was here.” Venom drips from her words.

“Yes.” At least, he doesn’t try to hide it from her. She raises an eyebrow, suggesting he continue. His expression changes, for only a moment, to something she does not recognise. Odd. She can always read him.

“Just someone from the village wanting a favour. I sent her packing.”

“Why is her scent so strong?” Disbelief lingers in her tone. This is Philippe, why would he lie?

“She left only moments before you arrived. I am surprised your paths did not cross. It’s why I wasn’t waiting for you.” His answer seems plausible, but she is not completely convinced.

“Matthew was here?” She changes the subject, lingering on whether Philippe is lying will do neither of them any good.

“Yes. I had a job for him in England and he stayed a while.”

“You didn’t write.” She is a little wounded as he pulls her closer to him.

“I didn’t want to interrupt your sport, not when he would be gone before you got back.” Even that seems false. Before she can respond, there is a knock at the door. It is Alain.

“Madame de Clermont, welcome home.”

“Thank you, Alain.”

“What is it Alain?” Philippe sounds irritated.

“A messenger from the Duke of Guise.” He walks into the room, the missive in hand.

“I’ll have a reply shortly.” Philippe replied breaking the seal. Intrigue washes over Ysabeau, her lips pursed. Philippe’s eyes scan the content back and forth. She studies him intently. He looks younger than when she left.

“Damn fool.” He curses.

“Alain, leave us.” Ysabeau instructs the squire but she does not turn around. Her attention is fixed on her husband.

“What is it?” Worry fills her voice.

“He’s asking for help. Henry of Navarre has besieged Paris. I knew this would end in carnage.”

“I think I’ll leave you to your reply.”

“You still have no interest in court politics?” He teases.

“None. Come find me later.” And with his agreement, she leaves the room.

Philippe does not find her later and she begins to think something is amiss. It is not like him to keep secrets. Dinner is a quiet affair with the children out of town: Matthew, Louisa and Gallowglass are in England, the others, she is not sure. But it is just the two of them. It makes her nervous. There is a rift between them, a silence she does not know how to fill. Is this because she left? Has she finally pushed too far? It is not like they have not parted before and he has never begrudged her for hunting witches before. Not even when the witches complained to the Congregation about her involvement in witch trials. He defended her before the witches on the Congregation. What if this time was one too many? It is not easy on either of them to be separated, not when he goes off to war or she goes hunting witches or they have an argument, and she leaves. But they always return to one another. The void between them this time, she fears, is too great. Should she confront him over it? Does she want to know? What if the truth is worse than not knowing? What if that witch was not just a random person from the village? What if there was more to her visit? She could not bear it if there was someone else. It would destroy her. Philippe would not do that, would he? The thoughts are flying around her head at great speed. 

“Dance with me.” He holds out his hand. She studies his expression. All earlier emotion is gone, and he is smiling at her. Ysabeau takes his hand and stands. He leads her to the middle of the floor and wraps his arm tight around her waist.

“This isn’t dancing.” She teases.

“Humour me.” Is the response he gives her, and she does. She rests her head on his shoulder as he moves them gently to the music.

“Did you offer the Duke of Guise help?” It is a neutral topic, a good place to start. Philippe sighs.

“No. We’re staying out of it. I’ve written to the family and commanded the Knights to stay out of it.” He sounds tired. “I thought you weren’t interested.” There is a teasing smile on his face. Ysabeau’s fear evaporates. Maybe she had imagined it all. In this moment, it does not matter.

"I'm interested in you." It's sentimental drivel, she knows, but it's the truth.

“I missed you, my love.” Philippe’s voice is soft, content. It warms her heart.

“You always say that when I’m gone.”

“That’s because I always miss you. You are everything.” He places a kiss to her head. Ysabeau melts into him. She missed him too. If only witch hunting did not take her away so much. But as always, she returned to him. She would always return to him. He is her other half. All doubt is gone. This is Philippe. Her husband. Her lover. Her mate. Her Philippe.


	3. Forgiveness Takes Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thank you so much for reading this. The date of the events in this chapter might be wrong, apologies if it is. I could not find a reference anywhere.
> 
> Warning (and apologies): This is a sad one.

Sept Tours 1815(ish)

"Ysabeau... stay." Tears prick her eyes as he begs her. They're stood in the courtyard, the de Clermont standard fluttering in the wind as her escort waits for her to say her goodbyes. In truth, she hadn't expected Philippe to show up. They hadn't spoken in days. Their argument after he refused to seek vengeance for the murder of Louisa had been explosive, the worst they'd ever had. Her grief had blinded her and now her anger and hurt caused by Philippe was insurmountable.

"I can't." A tear falls down her cheek. Philippe catches it, his hand soft against her skin. The urge to fall into his arms consumes her. Breathing deeply, she closes her eyes. Another tear falls and he brushes it away.

"You can." His words are almost pleading. 

He's right. It would be so easy to stay at Sept Tours but she's not yet ready to forgive him. If it had been one of his children killed, Philippe would have adopted a scorched earth policy, Barbados would have been raised to the ground. That double standard almost hurt more than Louisa's murder. It's why she had to go. Philippe didn't know where she was going, only Matthew knew. She knew Philippe would come after her. It was better that he couldn't. She had to protect their relationship because if he came after her before she was ready, things would be said that neither of them meant, things that would damage them beyond repair. Their argument had been proof of that. 

"You know I can't."

"You made a promise to never leave me during an argument." His voice breaks. Guilt slashes through her.

"This wouldn't be the first time I broke it." The words are callous and she wishes she could take them back. He looks physically wounded by them.

"Philippe, don't make this harder than it already is." His head shots up at her use of his name, it's rare. He studies her intently for a moment or two, reading her soul. Understanding slowly etches it's way onto his features, but he wouldn't give up without a fight.

"You don't have to go." His eyes plead with her. He moves closer to her, his voice low. "You can move out of our bedroom or I will. You can have all the space you need until you're ready."

If only it were that straightforward.

"How would that even be possible? You fill every inch of this place." It's true. It's why no matter what, her home will always be Sept Tours. She's tethered to the place because it is him.

He looks defeated. He knows that he can't talk her out of this, begging her to stay won't work. Instead, he lets her go. Another tear falls. She wishes he would do something, anything that would make her stay. But she knows there is nothing, not this time. He doesn't look at her as he steps away from her. 

She turns to Matthew. Pity fills his eyes as he pulls her into a hug.

"Maman, are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

She smiles softly. "Yes. I need you to look after your father. He's going to need you in the days to come. This separation won't be easy on him."

"Of course." She kisses his cheek gently. 

Then she walks down the ramp to where her horse is waiting for her. She places a foot in the stirrup. A hand on her waist stills her movement. Philippe. He helps her into the saddle. His heartbreak so evident. It pains her to do it but she must. She nods at the sergeant at arms. Ysabeau closes her eyes tightly gathering the strength to do this. To leave him... again. Philippe's voice steadies her.

"Just promise me one thing." She turns to face him, his hand gently touching her leg. "Come back to me."

The ghost of a smile graces her lips. "Always, mon coeur."


	4. The Calm Before

Outside of Acre 1191

The heat lies heavy on her skin. A wind ruffles but it's not enough to cool the air. The tent flutters in the breeze. Ysabeau taps her fingers on the table and takes a sip of wine. To say she's bored would be an understatement. Philippe had been called to the King's tent early this morning and still hasn't returned. As a women, Ysabeau wasn't allowed to attend. Philippe had insisted she accompany him to the Holy Land but she isn't involved in any of the war planning. The men think she's been brought along to warm Philippe's bed before he goes to war. It isn't completely untrue but there is more to it. She is Philippe's confidante and has helped him to plan his strategy for when King Richard leads them into battle. Besides, she didn't want to be left at Sept Tours waiting for news. Being in the Holy Land, albeit away from the fighting, meant she would get news much quicker from Philippe and Matthew. But it means she has to put up with crude jokes from soldiers. The misogyny irritates her but it is not new. She's learnt to block it out, mostly. A few of Philippe's loyal men had overheard comments a few days ago and had confronted those who had said it. They were lucky Philippe hadn't found out about it; they'd be dead if he had. The thought makes her smile.

"Ysabeau..." A familiar voice pulld her out of her thoughts. She turns to the direction of the sound.

"Gerbert. To what do I owe this pleasure?" His eyes scan the tent.

"Philippe's not here?"

"He's in council with the King and... you're not..." Ysabeau purses her lips. That's interesting.

"Don't play games with me Ysabeau... it doesn't suit you." So, she's touched a nerve.

"It was merely an observation, Gerbert."

"You know... I always wished I found you before Philippe did." That is something she didn't know.

Ysabeau rolls her eyes, refusing to acknowledge his comment. "What do you want Gerbert?"

"A word with Philippe but it can wait." She's about to respond when a breeze filters through the tent. Philippe has returned.

"Gerbert... what do you want?" Philippe's tone is clipped.

"A word." His eyes linger on Ysabeau.  
  
"Can it wait? The King wants to besiege Acre today." So that is what the meeting with King Philip was about.

"I thought your master was King Richard." Philippe laughs. Their land is part of the Angevin Empire making the de Clermonts subjects of the English Crown.

"I pledged my men to the Crusades. King Philip is currently leading those Crusades. Richard is not yet here." His voice is smooth and Ysabeau smirks. He could always talk his way out of a situation. "Perhaps you should do the same."

"I'd rather not have Richard accuse me of treason." His voice is sickly. "About that word..."

"It will have to wait. In case you didn't understand, I'm somewhat preoccupied... Philip intends to attack Acre today."

"And if it can't..." Gerbert turns to Ysabeau wanting her support. She narrows her eyes at him. Support for what?

"Gerbert... whether you choose to muster today or not, I will be. So, perhaps you'll give me a moment alone with my wife." Philippe's eyes flash at Ysabeau. She knows that look well. But they won't have time for that today, not if he's leaving for Acre.

"Very well. But Philippe... once you've won the warmbloods' war, we will talk." There's a harshness to his tone. Ysabeau shivers. Philippe nods in agreement. It's short, reluctant. Gerbert turns away from them, walking out of the tent.

"Goodbye Gerbert." Her voice is soft. They used to be closer, they're still friends but Gerbert and Philippe's rivalry often puts a strain on their friendship.

"Goodbye Ysabeau. See you on the other side." She's not sure what he means by that.

"I leave you alone for a while and you move on to another man." Philippe's tone is teasing. Ysabeau laughs.

"You didn't expect me to sit and pine, did you?" She matches his tone.

"It's like that, is it, my love?" He wraps his arms around her waist. She touches his cheek before brushing her lips against his. Before he can deepen it, she pulls away.

"Have you heard from Matthew?"

"He's in Jerusalem." Ysabeau raises an eyebrow. "He'll be fine Ysabeau."

"You sent him to Jerusalem to spy?"

"Not quite..."

"Philippe!"

"Ysabeau... I need his help if we are to create a manjasang kingdom."

"And if he's discovered?"

"There's a greater chance of him surviving if he's discovered as an assassin than a spy."

"Philippe!" He thinks she coddles Matthew and perhaps she does but he's her son and he's infected with blood rage. Being around so much blood is a bad idea.

"My love, let's not argue. I'm headed to war."

"Is that supposed to pacify me?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Did it work?"

A smile teases her lips. "No. But I know what will."

"As delightful as that would be... I don't have the time." Ysabeau pouts. Philippe laughs. "There'll be time for that when I return." She's disappointed and frustrated.

"Now... help me with my armour."

"Philippe... you're a vampire..."

"I'd rather not get injured. And I don't think you want this body marked." He's teasing.

"Just one mark." She smirks.

"Later."

"And what am I supposed to do whilst you fight?"

"I'm sure you'll find a way to amuse yourself."

"Maybe Gerbert will be happy to entertain me."

"Don't joke about that. You know if it was up to me I would let you fight. But it's not and King Philip has witches fighting for him."

"So..." She shrugs. Philippe laughs.

"Don't play coy, my love. We both know you would end up attacking our own side." She pretends to be insulted but she isn't, not really. He's right. She would kill the witches fighting for Philip.

"Now, my chainmail..."

"You could stay... send the men into battle but not fight yourself." Ysabeau lifts the chainmail over his head.

"Not a chance. Besides I need to ensure the civilian damage is limited. The Knights will arrive soon. I left orders for them in the coffer." Ysabeau runs her hand down his chest. The metal is cold under her touch. She moves her hand further down and then under the chainmail.

"Ysabeau don't." A mischievous grin graces her lips at his tone.

"The Knights?" She asks demurely.

"Yes. They are to help any wounded civilians." Ysabeau moves her hand further up as he speaks. He hardens under her touch.

"Ysabeau... don't you dare." She drops her hand and walks away from him. His surcoat is resting on the chair. She picks it up.

"Ysabeau, if you don't finish what you started, I will leave you wanting when I return." He threatens. She smiles.

"We both know who will win that game." Desire flashes through his eyes.

"You'd really let me go to war like this?"

"Think of it as an incentive to return." She has finished with the surcoat and is tieing his scabbarb around his waist.

"As if I need an incentive." He pulls her to him and kisses her. It's needy and leaves her breathless.

"I think I will bring you along more often." He teases.

"Next time you go to war... I will be fighting alongside you." He laughs and pulls her in for another kiss.

"I don't doubt it." He takes his sword from her hand and caresses her cheek. She leans into his touch, her eyes closed.

"I'll be back by the time you open your eyes." Sadness and longing washes over her. It's not the first time he's gone to war but this feels different. His touch disppears and she opens her eyes. He's walking towards the door of the tent.

"Come back to me." She almost whispers it.

"Always."


	5. The Taint of Jealousy

1790 Versailles

Ysabeau's laugh rings out across the great hall. She's seated at the gaming table with the Duke of Burgundy. They're playing hombre. Philippe's head turns at the sound of her laugh. He's conversing with the prévôt dès marchands of Paris but he would recognise the sound in a crowd of thousands. Only he can make her laugh like that, or so he thought.

"Be careful around Burgundy. I suspect his intentions are less than honourable." They're in their rooms in the Palace of Versailles.

"Less than honourable?"

"I think he may make advances towards you."

"The Duke of Burgundy?" She raises an eyebrow. "You honestly believe that?"

"I saw the two of you."

"We were playing cards. You had matters to discuss with Flesselles. The Duke offered to indulge me in a game or two."

"I'm sure he did."

"Philippe, when have I ever given you reason to doubt my feelings for you?"

"My love, it's not you that concerns me."

"Philippe, the Duke of Burgundy isn't interested in me." He raises an eyebrow. "Even if he was, he wouldn't dare cross you."

"You thought the same thing about Buckingham." Ysabeau flinches at the comment. That is a low blow. They'd been temporarily banned from the English Court because Philippe had started a fight with the Duke of Buckingham over her.

"She walks to him, places a hand on his cheek. He laces his fingers with hers.

"Burgundy is not Buckingham. And even if he was... you have nothing to worry about." Still, his face does not soften. "Philippe, do not do anything reckless."

"Reckless?"

"France is our home, you have business before the Court. We cannot be banished from the French Court."

"Why would we banished from Court?"

"Philippe."

"Ysabeau." He runs the back of his hand down her cheek, she leans into his touch. "You know I can't help being jealous. You know I hate it when another man makes you laugh or I see your eyes light up and I'm not the reason for it."

"Then you should have never brought me to Court. You know the reputation of the men."

"And you, my darling, know that I cannot bear to be parted from you." His hand is on her neck now, a tight grip.

"Then is seems we're at an impasse." A teasing smile graces her lips. Philippe laughs and her smile grows.

"That we are. But I know how we can resolve it." There's a mischievous glint in his eyes. He takes her hand and leads her to their bed chamber.

"Philippe, I'm serious." They're lying in bed, the glow of the aftermath lingering around them. She traces the bite mark on his chest. Her bite mark.

"Serious about what, my love?"

She sits up and his arm moves from her waist to her hip. "Not allowing Burgundy or anyone else to provoke you."

"I won't. I'll lock you away in these rooms if I have to." Ysabeau giggles as he pulls her down for a kiss. "Or I could chain you to this bed." 

"You wouldn't stand a chance."

Philippe's blood is simmering. Ysabeau is sat at the card table with Burgundy. Again. She's laughing. Again. But this time, the amusement comes from something he's reading.

"Don't worry about Burgundy, he's harmless." Flesselles tells him.

"Why would I be worried?" Philippe turns to Flesselles, the rage close to the surface.

"He's declaring his love for Madame de Clermont through poetry."

"He's what?" There's no hiding the anger in his voice now. He walks over to the two of them and stops by Ysabeau. Worry flashes across her face at Philippe's expression. She places a hand on his chest.

"Philippe." Her voice is low, edged with warning. Burgundy, the fool, hasn't noticed.

"Perhaps it's time you stopped romancing my wife, Burgundy." He snarls. Ysabeau jumps.

"De Clermont... it's just harmless fun."

"Harmless fun? I suspect every man in this room would not take kindly to you writing their wives poetry." The colour drains from Burgundy's face.

"Philippe. Enough." Ysabeau's words are wrought with panic. Philippe ignores her.

"I suggest you get your pistol." Burgundy is white now. Ysabeau stands up, wedging herself between the two men.

"Philippe! This is madness." Philippe lifts a finger to her chin and gently tilts her head up. His eyes drink her in.

"I have to. I cannot let this go."

"You will kill him." Her voice is quiet.

"I won't. I'll aim for the shoulder." His voice is also quiet.

"Very well, de Clermont. Let's do this." They've acquired a crowd. It follows them outside to the courtyard. Ysabeau does not. She goes to their rooms. Her trunk is under the bed, where it has been since they arrived at Court all those months ago. She pulls it out with little resistance and dumps it on the bed just as her maid enters the room.

"We're going to Paris and then Sept Tours."

"Of course, ma'am. When are we leaving?"

"Today." Confusion cross her features. "There's no time to delay." The maid springs into action.

Philippe returns to their rooms as she's packing. Ysabeau's maid is helping. Philippe notes her presence and would normally have dismissed her from the room but he's too shocked by what he sees.

"Where are you going?"

"To join the rebels. I'm restless... I need a distraction." She doesn't turn around.

"And you think that will provide one?" Ysabeau recognises the tone of voice at once: anger. 

"Perhaps... and if not, it will be good sport." She shrugs it off. The last thing she desires is arguing with him.

"Ysabeau." His tone is harsh now. It's the tone he uses when someone disobeys his orders, Matthew normally. It's rare for him to use it on her. She turns to face him. His expression softens.

"Court has become stifling. I need a reprieve." She's not sure if he understands her meaning but it's of no matter to her.

"And if you're caught?"

"I'm sure my husband could use his connections." He raises an eyebrow at her comment.

"And if the Congregation finds out you're meddling in warm blood affairs." She knows what he's doing, manipulating her into staying.

"How would they find that out... unless someone told them?"

"Your secret is safe with me." He's teasing but she's not in the mood. His jealousy, his need to have her has gone too far. He's suffocating her and she needs some space to breathe. She's finished packing and the air lies heavy between them. They both know what comes next. He'll ask her to stay, she'll tell him that she can't, that she needs to go. The guilt at doing so will almost make her change her mind. Almost. But he doesn't ask her and the hurt slices through her. It's not the first time they've done this, nor, she suspects, will it be the last. Has he become immune to her leaving? The thought of that is unbearable.

"Won't you ask me to stay?" There's a ghost of a smile on her lips. Hope flashes through Philippe's eyes but as he watches her, it's quickly extinguished.

"Is there any point? It's never changed your mind before."

"One day it might." She closes the trunk and walks to the door. There's no goodbye kiss this time. There's not even 

"Philippe... stay safe." She turns back to him. They both know rebellion is coming. They've seen it enough times before. This one is different though. She can feel it. If they remain at Court they'll be in danger, if they join the rebels, they'll be in danger. How she longs for Sept Tours, if only Philippe hadn't insisted on cultivating the nobles at Court. But helping the rebels whilst Philippe remains at Court is clever really and it provides her with the perfect excuse to get away for a while. Not that she needs an excuse.

"Always... come back to me mon coeur." She will, of course. She always does.


	6. A Necessary Parting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, two chapters in one day!! Just wanted to say thank you to everyone for reading this and a massive thank you to those who have commented or left kudos. It means so much!

Bordeaux 1777

The air is chilly as they stand on the dock. Unusually chilly for the time of year. A ship is docked behind them. Ysabeau’s ship. Or at least, the one that will take her to America. Matthew’s already there, he sailed to the New World with Lafayette to help Washington. But it was also at Philippe’s bidding. America is at war with Britain. In her lifetime, Ysabeau has lived through many wars. She has participated in several but this one makes her hopeful. It is why Philippe sent Matthew to America because this war is THE war. America is liberating herself from the British and she suspects France will follow America to revolution.

“You don’t have to go.” Philippe’s voice interrupts her musings. There is a slight sadness in his eyes.

“You would trust someone else with the task?” She raises an eyebrow. They both know the answer. This is far too important to be trusted to anyone else. The message cannot fall into anyone’s hand but Lafayette.

“No, of course not. I just hate to be parted from you.”

“It won’t be long. You know I do not have a taste for war anymore. Besides if I am caught by the British, you’re going to have some explaining to do.” Philippe had been playing all sides against each other for so long now that she does not even remember when it started.

“It would be preferable for you not to get caught.” He smiles. “But I will save you, if I have to.” He is teasing.

“We both know that would not be necessary, but I would not envy your audience with King George if I were caught as a spy.”

“You won’t be. You have been my spy many times before and not been caught.”

“Need I remind you of Naples?” A smirk pulls at her lips.

“Come now, there was no real danger. That was fun, was it not?” Ysabeau laughs as she recalls the memory.

“Your definition of fun differs from mine somewhat.”

“Well perhaps if you return quickly, I can show you exactly what my definition of fun entails.” She detects the desire in his voice, and she wishes he had made the innuendo earlier and not as she stands waiting to board the ship.

“Now, now Philippe, don’t make promises you cannot keep especially when I am about to sail into a war zone at your bidding.” 

“I would never. And my darling, it is not at my bidding. We both know I would never succeed in getting you to do something you did not want to.”

“That is very true.”

“But, the sentiment remains, stay safe. I do not care about the political ramifications of you getting caught. I care about you.” His words melt her heart. The political ramifications of her getting caught would be massive. It would restart war between Britain and France. And the de Clermont’s would be the instigators. That was something they did not need. Philippe would have to do everything possible to avoid a conflict with King George if she were caught. And yet, he did not care about that. He cared about her safety.

“My love, do not concern yourself with such matters. If I get caught, I will simply say that I am trying to convince Matthew to return home.” Ysabeau shrugs. She always has a contingency plan when spying for Philippe, especially after Naples. That was a situation she never wanted to find herself in again.

“One step ahead.” He smiles.

“Always. But if I do not go now, I fear the ship may leave without me.”

“It would not. But alas, you must go. The sooner you go, the sooner I get you back.”

“I will be back for Christmastide.” She has no intention of staying in America for long, she will deliver the message, visit Matthew, and then return to Sept Tours. 

“I will hold you to that. I cannot survive the children on my own.” Ysabeau laughs, a rich, warm laugh.

“I shall be back.” At her words, Philippe caresses her cheek. She leans into the touch just as he brushes his lips against hers. It is filled with passion, hunger but also a desperation and sadness at their being parted again. He pulls away and she blinks away the tears. It is only a few months after all.

“You take my heart with you mon coeur, bring it back to me.”

“Always.”


	7. A Necessary Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating. I've been crazy busy with my dissertation but hopefully things will start to calm down soon.

1778 New Jersey

There's a crisp freshness in the air as Ysabeau stands watching ships come into the port. She did not return to Sept Tours before Christmas. America had been hit with a harsh winter and the roads had been unnavigable. Instead, she lodged with friends of Philippe's in Philadelphia as she waited for the snow to clear and travel to become safe again. Finally, after months of waiting, she is back in New Jersey and ready to sail home, if the ship ever docks. She's been watching for over half an hour as it tries to navigate the shallow harbour to no avail. It is a merchant ship; with the war, there's few passenger ships. And the few there is are checked by the British. Her presence has gone undetected so far and ideally she needs it to remain so, at least until she arrives in Bordeaux. She suspects Philippe will have sent men to escort her through France but she needs to get there without the British questioning why she's in America. 

A smile graces her lips at the thought of her husband. He had not been pleased at her prolonged stay or at having to host the family for Christmastide without her but there was little to be done. She was stuck. She at least had been able to spend time with Matthew even if the rest of her family was on the other side of the Atlantic. Leaving Matthew had been difficult but her place is with Philippe. She was not even supposed to see Matthew much less spend so much time with him, Philippe had forbade it but he would never find out about a fleeting visit. With any luck, the war will be over after this summer's campaign and Matthew will be return to France, perhaps to fight in their own revolution.

"Madame de Clermont..." The voice catches her off guard. It's John, Matthew's bat man who is tasked with ensuring she gets on the ship before returning to Washington's camp at Valley Forge. She'd sent him in search of information before she'd realised how much difficulty the ship was having. 

"The ship is unloading its cargo now. It will not be long before you can embark." She hadn't even realised it had docked. 

"The Captain knows I will be sailing with him?"

"Yes. Matthew made sure. He's not thrilled about it but you're the wife of Philippe de Clermont." Ysabeau grimaces. She hates that being Philippe's wife affords her privileges. No doubt, the Captain will expect gratitude from Philippe once they reach Bordeaux. Still, if it gets her safely home and soon. 

"Was the ship carrying much cargo?"

"I do not know Madame de Clermont."

"Perhaps you should oversee the unloading? Then you will first hand knowledge of when I can embark." Ysabeau suggests. The man's been annoying her since they left Pennsylvania. He's too anxious to get back to Washington's camp and the war. He's the third bat man Matthew has had since the war broke out and he's prepared to die for the cause. The thought makes her shiver. Too many young men ready to give their lives so freely. She's seen many wars, seen many young men fuelled by a desire to die as martyrs. Washington's camp is filled with them. She suspected it would be. It's why she did not intend on being in America for long. She's seen enough wars to last the rest of her existence and she knows that France is yet to have its own war for liberty. She's weary to return but she must. Philippe is waiting for her on the other side of the ocean and as always he has a part of her. It is time, they were reunited.

There's a disturbance to her left. A cart has turned over and it is causing havoc. Behind the chaos, a man is looking directly at her. Ysabeau narrows her eyes. She's gone relatively unnoticed until now. He's walking towards her. His gaze never leaving her. She smiles. She'd recognise him anywhere. 

"Philippe..." Surprise and delight lace her voice as he finally stops in front of her. At once, his hand touches her cheek. The familiar warmth floods through her. "What are you doing here?"

"Collecting my wife." There's a teasing to her voice as though it was obvious.

"You travelled all this way just to bring me home?" She purses her lips. He's romantic but not even he would journey across half of France and brave the Atlantic just to take her home. 

"Not exactly... I have news for Lafayette from Rochambeau." 

"Ah." She smirks. She knows him too well.

"Do not be disheartened, my love. Anyone could have delivered this message." Philippe defends his actions. He doesn't need to. Ysabeau laces her fingers through his. 

"Will you take it to Valley Forge?" Lafayette is still with Washington. If Philippe is to take the message to him, it will delay her return to Sept Tours even further. She's happy he's here. Of course she is, but he isn't the only thing from home that she's missed these past months. She hasn't missed any of those things enough to make her go alone whilst Philippe seeks out Lafayette but she has missed them.

"No. I've intrusted Alain to take to from here. It seems my wife is need of my attention." Relief floods through her. His words are an understatement, she's been in need of his attention for a while now, not that she would admit it.

"Is she?" Her smile is coy.

"She hasn't seen me in quite some time." Philippe plays along and her smile widens.

"Well... I best not keep you." Ysabeau shrugs. Philippe's hand leaves her cheek and travels down to that sensitive spot on her neck. His grips is rough, not too rough that it hurts her but enough to remind her that she is his. She will always be his and six months away from him does not change that.

"You were in danger of breaking your promise, mon coeur." His tone is gentle, but slightly reprimanding.

"What promise?" She has no idea what he's talking about.

"To bring my heart back to me. So I thought it best I intervene and stop you from breaking it." His words are serious. He's not angry nor is he reprimanding her. He's such stating a fact. Ysabeau smiles, damn she loves him more than anything.

"That's the one promise I will never break."


	8. One Last Kiss

1485 Harfleur

The camp is alive with activity. Henry Tudor’s army is ready to sail to Wales. He is reclaiming his throne. And Philippe is joining Henry. King Charles had sent Philippe with his men to lead mercenaries. Ysabeau had accompanied the army to Harfleur but this is as far as she will go. Philippe’s men are waiting to take her back to Sept Tours. She wishes he didn't have to fight another war in another country on the orders of another king. How many more times will he be expected to fight a war on the whim of men who take pleasure in destroying each other on the battlefield? Of course, Philippe doesn't see it like that. He enjoys the politics and power of it all. He always has.

"You've been quiet today." Philippe wraps his arm around her waist.

"I'm just thinking."

"About..." He nips her ear. Ysabeau doesn't reprimand him. There's too much going on for anyone to be paying attention to them.

"War... what else?" She's distant.

"I can think of many other things you could be thinking about." She doesn't miss the innuendo.

"Now? When you're about to sail off to war?"

"Always."

"Wasn't last night enough?" She raises an eyebrow. She already knows his answer.

"Never." There's a possessiveness to his voice. It warms her. "I must check on the men." She nods softly. Their time is almost over.

"Ysabeau... do not leave without saying goodbye."

"Never." She copies his earlier word and he smiles. 

Philippe walks away and she's left standing on her own. Around her, the camp is being packed up. There's little for her to do, most of the belongings they brought with them will go with Philippe to England. Instead, she watches the men ready themselves for war. She remembers the days she'd fought alongside Philippe. Now they are just a bittersweet memory. The rules of society do not allow her to fight even though she's more than a match for any man. She thinks of Matthew. He's in Italy stirring things up for Philippe. She suspects they'll be joining him before long. But Philippe must win Henry Tudor's throne for him first.

"I didn't think you'd would be where I left you." Philippe smirks when he returns to her.

"There's little for me to do. I was people watching." She shrugs.

"And..."

"You've got some serious competition." She teases.

Philippe laughs warmly. "Give me their names and I'll put them in the vanguard." 

This time, Ysabeau laughs. It's no secret, the vanguard would be the first to fall in the battle. Philippe doesn't mean it, of course.

"Come now Philippe, that's hardly a fair fight." She chides him.

"Oh, my love... you know when it comes to you, I'd never fight fair." He caresses her cheek.

Ysabeau smiles. "I wouldn't have it any other way." 

"Good." His lips brush hers. "Don't do anything reckless whilst I'm gone."

"Me? Reckless?"

"Ysabeau. I expect to find you in one piece when I return." She smirks. He knows her too well. But it goes both ways. He won't send her away, won't tell her goodbye but that's her cue. It's time for her to return to Sept Tours.

"Am I allowed to go hunting?"

"Of course. Just stay safe."

"Of course." She smiles softly. He pulls her against him tightly. He captures her lips with his. It's hungry. Passionate. One last kiss.


	9. Words of Desperation

1885 Sept Tours 

To say Ysabeau was bored would be an understatement. Restless didn't cover it either. The world had returned to peace and Philippe had not meddled in politics since the Franco-prussian War. There had been little need. France was in the midst of a glorious peace, a golden age. And Ysabeau was bored to tears. Life was too quiet, too monotonous. There was no excitement, no danger. She missed it. She'd told Philippe and he'd laughed and told her to enjoy the peace. But she couldn't. It was making her irritable. For the first time in a long time she craved to be somewhere other than Sept Tours. That hadn't been an enjoyable conversation with Philippe. It never was but this time had been different. He'd taken it personally and now he was sulking. She would've preferred an argument to this. She let him sulk for several excruciating days before finally confronting him.

"My love, you know this isn't about you..."

"I just don't see why you have to go..."

"Because I'm restless. I need to hunt some witches."

"And they're aren't any witches in France? I'm sure Gerbert would allow you to hunt on his land."

Ysabeau pursed her lips. Why was he being so difficult?

"And you'd want me in his territory?"

"I'd rather you weren't going at all."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"I could make you stay." It's not a joke. Anger rose in her. He wouldn't dare. The anger was joined by hurt.

"Try it."

Guilt flashed across his face. He instantly recognised the line he crossed.

"Ysabeau." He reached for her. She stepped away. "I didn't mean that. You know I would never..."

"You said it..." The expression that crossed his face, shattered her heart. She'd caused that pain, that guilt.

"My darling, I just don't want you to go." He said it as though that made it okay. It didn't. 

"And that makes it okay?"

"No. Of course not. My love... please. Let's not part like this."

"Philippe, this isn't about you. You know it isn't. But I need to go. I'm withering here." It's not forgiveness. Their love didn't require declarations of it. They were long past that. Their love spanned centuries and she would always forgive him, just as he forgave her every time she left him. They didn't need to say the words for it to ring true.

"I know. I just wish you didn't feel you had to leave me." She softened. "Will you be gone long?"

"I don't know." It was the truth. She had no idea how long she'd be gone or even where she was going. London probably, for a time at least.

"Is there any point in asking you to stay?"

She smiled. "You know there isn't. But I appreciate it all the same."

"Very well. I won't stand in your way." 

Ysabeau caught herself smirking. Why couldn't he have said that days ago when they'd first had the conversation? She knew the answer, of course. It wouldn't be Philippe. He'd protest against her going, stand his ground and then eventually relent. The only time it was any different was if she was leaving after an argument. This time was one of those times she just needed to get away.

"It only took you three days." She teased.

"You know I'll never be happy for you to leave." He cupped her cheek. This time she remained where she was.

"I know." She whispered.

"Never forget it."


End file.
